


Home

by cat_77



Series: Flufftober 2018 [22]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: Alec wasn’t like that.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt of “city.”
> 
> * * *

He could barely see the stars, but the lights from the skyscrapers shone just as brightly if not even more so than the little white dots against the blackness. Just like those dots, every flicker of fluorescent and neon could guide him to his destination, to precisely where he wanted to be.

He knew that to the left lay a laundromat where seedy deals were made under the cover of fabrics and the near overwhelming scent of fake flowers. To the right lay the pizza place that always forgot to scrub the bottom of their oven, the scent of burnt garlic and the remnants of what was once cheese drifting off into the night. Four blocks over was an arcade that he and other kids would sneak off to during their first patrols, mesmerized by the lights and sounds and the glimpse of mundane life. Another six would find him at the tiny garden outside of a tiny church, unremarkable save for the weapons cache hidden under the statue of Saint Joseph, if you could draw the right rune and pry the stone covering off with a hard twist.

There were some of his kind that hated this life, hated the constant buzz, the constant flow at all hours, day or night. They preferred the woods or countryside, claimed there were demons even there, warlocks and vampires and werewolves that tucked themselves away where they thought they could bend or outright break the rules where no eyes could follow. They preferred the solitude. They preferred the mostly quiet nights and languid days, content that their very presence was usually enough to keep the worst of it at bay.

Alec wasn’t like that.

He thrived on the slightly organized chaos the city would bring. He knew he seemed quiet, reserved, aloof from it all. The truth was that he loved watching. Loved seeing what possibly could happen next. There was so much movement around him that he could sit still and soak it all in, watch the ebb and flow of people and cars and technology like the ebb and flow of waves or the long grasses in the emptiest of fields. 

And he loved the technology. Loved the advancements. Loved to see what people would think up next. Loved to see how the human mind would create, would build ways to look far off into the universe yet not see the monsters that lay at their very feet.

He might prefer an ancient weapon and to follow paths laid down centuries ago, but he saw how those same paths led to new places now. People changed. Life changed. To ignore that, to fail to adapt to that, was to welcome death. He watched. He waited. He saw the patterns and knew where they would end up next. Knew when to take aim. Knew when to hold back.

He hoped that he could convince the people of Idris of that. He knew his siblings felt the same as him, to differing degrees sometimes, but at their core they understood. Downworlders adapted to better blend in. Shadowhunters needed to adapt to keep them, and the mundanes, safe. They needed to adapt to do their jobs, their sacred duty as set forth by the Angel himself.

In the city, he could see that change, that progress, spiral on at incredible speed. The few times he visited the more remote Institutes, time seemed to crawl, progress seemed stagnant. He would return and embrace the chaos once more. He would let the neon blind him knowing it would show him where to go. He would breathe deep of the exhaust and smog to get the barest hints of the detergent and burnt spices. He would stand still and let life rotate around him.

There was a noise behind him that interrupted his thoughts, the clink of glass on glass, of a wooden board against a metal table, of a heavy piece of stone pottery scraping along the same. He could smell the richness of the wine, the smokiness of the meats and the sharp bite of the cheeses, the bitter brine of the olives. Charcuterie tonight then, he thought though he didn’t turn to confirm it, not yet.

He waited. Five breaths. Two more. Warm arms wrapped around him from behind just like he knew they would. The shift of weight that led to lips that just barely grazed his cheek, a chin that ghosted across his shoulder.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Magnus commented, joining him in his reverie. Wrapped together, they stared out at the glimmer and glow of it all. Eventually, he asked, “Anything in particular on your mind?”

He released the brick he had been braced against, held the hands that held him, listened to the subtle click of metal on metal as rings shifted and collided. He answered the only way he knew how and knew it would be understood. “Home.”


End file.
